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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29875449">With a Brave Heart, Theseus Walked on.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissesforkorra/pseuds/kissesforkorra'>kissesforkorra</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adventure, Other, Swearing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:26:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,097</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29875449</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissesforkorra/pseuds/kissesforkorra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy has always wanted to be a hero, to stand tall in legends retold for centuries after his death, to know what glory feels like. </p><p>So, he pulls the sword from the stone, and accidentally sets into motion a prophecy that's been dormant for centuries. He and Tubbo march toward L'Manberg with a grim mission, and Tommy quickly learns how heavily heroism presses down on a boy's shoulders. </p><p>He's not sure what being a hero means now, but he knows he doesn't want it anymore. He just wants to go home. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>Tommy glances between the hilt’s steel shine and Dream’s sickening, satisfied, ceramic smile. He takes a deep breath, and then holds Dream’s gaze, pouring as much hate as he can into his glare. “One day, Dream, you’ll be at the other end of this sword. And I swear to God, when you are, I’ll cut your fucking head off.” </i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>Dream laughs. “I look forward to that, Tommy. Genuinely.”</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>Tommy closes his eyes.<i></i></i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dream &amp; TommyInnit, Phil Watson &amp; Tubbo &amp; TommyInnit, Tubbo &amp; Tommyinnit, Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Sword in the Stone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hey! real quick, i just want to announce that i'm uploading each chapter as i finish. i have the story outlined completely, i just don't have each chapter finished yet obviously. i'll try to update as often as i can, but i'm an english major and i have essays due like every week so i can't guarantee i'll be consistent. but i am trying!</p><p>i also want to mention that this fic is an adventure story at its core. there's no romance involved at all, so i don't wanna see any shipping in the comments if people end up reading this (lol). just keep in mind that the main characters are children, yeah? don't be weird. </p><p>okay, enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hello, Tommy.” The cold air lingers between trees, its navy blue whispers writing wordless warnings up Tommy’s arms and on the back of his neck. <em> Wake up. </em> Tommy shudders despite trying to stand tall, and he drags his tired eyes along as he turns. <em> Wake up, </em>but he knows he won’t, and he spins almost all the way around before spotting the masked man. </p><p> </p><p>He stands at the clearing’s edge, a ghost barely visible in the trees but with a presence that reaches across the night’s deep blue. <em> Wake up. </em>But when Tommy gulps, his throat is dry. He knows he won’t wake until he’s allowed to. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy glares at the mask, but his hands tremble. He eyes the man’s axe, just a shadow by his side, a shadow that knows his skin very well, a shadow that knows which spots are softest. Tommy takes a deep breath in. </p><p> </p><p>He used to tell himself that <em> it’s just a dream. </em> But when the man’s low laugh started following him in the daytime, the man gave him his name, and Tommy’s frantic chanting became <em> it’s just Dream. </em> And when tight spaces started to make him shaky and the mask smiled at him from the dark corners of his room, preventing him from sleeping, his repetitions became <em> it’s him again. It’s Dream.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Now, though, Tommy doesn’t chant anything. He just tries to breathe. </p><p> </p><p>“Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here?” </p><p> </p><p>Tommy scoffs, keeping his voice even. “I already know why.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream tilts his head, voice terrifyingly playful in the way that only the most dangerous people manage. “Do you?” He leans against the tree, nighttime mostly concealing his mask, but Tommy knows the stoic, ceramic smiley face is there, as cold and dead and blank as a great white’s eyes.</p><p> </p><p>The scariest part, though, is that sometimes Tommy can’t tell if that predatory, calculating hatred comes from the dark, or if Tommy himself puts it there. Is the night a window or a mirror? <em> Is this anger mine or Dream’s?  </em></p><p> </p><p>Tommy breathes out, then narrows his eyes in an attempt to appear as threatening as possible. “It’s the same reason it always is. To fuck with me.” </p><p> </p><p>Dream clicks his tongue. “You make me sound shallow when you say it like <em> that </em>, Tommy.” </p><p> </p><p>“Well, it’s true, so …” </p><p> </p><p>Dream shakes his head slowly. “It’s not true. I have a reason. A real one.” Tommy shifts his weight back, pulling away from the secret’s reaching edges, unsure if he wants to cross that line. But, as he always does, Dream crosses into the clearing, twirling his axe effortlessly, confidence fueled by unbridled power, allowing his footsteps to fall soundlessly atop dry leaves, and Tommy knows that he has no choice. Facing each other, only two feet between them, ignoring the way Tommy flinches back, Dream rests a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, looking down at the boy. “Let me show you.” </p><p> </p><p>Tommy blinks, and they’re not in the clearing anymore. The trees are closer together, making the night even darker, and the air tastes earthier here, and the ground hums with energy unlike anything Tommy’s felt before; something ancient and powerful, yet familiar. Something completely wild, but calling out to him. He steps forward, and Dream lets him go, hand dropping. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy’s mouth falls open. A sword is lodged deeply into a small boulder, only its hilt and top part of its blade visible, the steel reflecting light despite there being none in this part of the forest. The weapon itself is not impressively ornate or artistic, but Tommy is speechless with awe at the sword’s strength evident in the way the hilt itself seems to own the entire forest around them. As if every tree, every stone, every blade of grass were bowing to the sword in the stone. As if this sword were a crown. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy fights the urge to kneel. He glances at Dream, not without a jolt of nervous energy making him flex his fingers. “What is this?” </p><p> </p><p>“This, Tommy,” Dream says smugly, “Is your destiny.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy steps towards the boulder. “It’s a sword.” </p><p> </p><p>“Not just any sword. Someone drove it through this stone centuries ago, ensuring no one could ever use its power for evil again. The sword had a different name, back then, but in the sacrifice, its wielder threw everything away. He died here. I consider this sword his marker, so I gave it his name.” </p><p> </p><p>Tommy’s wide eyes reflect the steel’s gleam, and his fingers move themselves to wrap around the hilt. The hilt is lined with some sort of smooth, dark purple material he’s never touched before. Tommy feels slight grooves from a bigger hand; this sword had been broken in; this sword had been <em> used </em>. A laugh echoes up from the weapon, a laugh that’s rough edges gently brush up his spine, and Tommy gulps, but he doesn’t let go. He closes his eyes, and he knows how quickly and sharply this sword could cut through air. He knows how its weight would feel in his palm as he swings. He knows what it would feel like to raise it high above his head, arm shaking with adrenaline, head spinning with war’s high. </p><p> </p><p>Memories like a foggy morning in the early winter. Tommy blinks, and he tears his eyes away from the weapon to look up at Dream. “What’s it called?”</p><p> </p><p>His mask is still, but Tommy can feel his smile. “The Blade.” </p><p> </p><p>Tommy’s silent for a moment. Then he scoffs. “That’s a lazy name for a sword, don’t you think?”</p><p> </p><p>Dream laughs, leaning back against a tree. “That name used to strike fear into the hearts of heroes and monsters alike. The power the Blade holds …” Dream shakes his head. “It’s absolutely unmatched. And it’s been in the forest for centuries, waiting for you.” </p><p> </p><p>“What the hell am I supposed to do with it?”</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t tell you everything, Tommy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why not?” </p><p> </p><p>“Because it’s not <em> fun </em>. Come find the Blade when you wake up, pull it from the stone, and all its power will be yours.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy’s throat is completely dry. <em> All this power. Mine. </em>“But I don’t know how to find it.” </p><p> </p><p>“You do.” </p><p> </p><p>Tommy glances between the hilt’s steel shine and Dream’s sickening, satisfied, ceramic smile. He takes a deep breath, and then holds Dream’s gaze, pouring as much hate as he can into his glare. “One day, Dream, you’ll be at the other end of this sword. And I swear to God, when you are, I’ll cut your fucking head off.” </p><p> </p><p>Dream laughs. “I look forward to that, Tommy. Genuinely.”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy closes his eyes. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>He wakes in bed, sticky with sweat. Weak moonlight flickers across the room, and Tommy sits up, twisting to look out the window. It’s still dark, but the sky is more blue than black, so Tommy immediately rolls out of bed and quickly tugs on some sneakers, not even bothering to change from his flannel pajama bottoms. He trips over his minefield of dirty clothes on his way out of his room, but he’s silent through the hallway, carefully opening and closing Tubbo’s door without a single creak. Phil sleeps like a rock, but he’s caught Tommy sleepwalking too many times for Tommy to risk being careless, especially now. </p><p> </p><p>“Tubbo!” Tommy whispers with urgency, shaking his step-brother awake. “Tubbo! Oh my god, you lazy idiot, get up!”</p><p> </p><p>“Wha-” Tubbo blinks slowly, confused, eyebrows furrowed deeply, strands of hair pressed against his cheeks and forehead, voice still laced with dreams. “What’s going on?” </p><p> </p><p>“I have to go into the forest, and you’re coming with me.” </p><p> </p><p>Tubbo jolts forward to sit, looking at Tommy with wide, unbelieving eyes. Fully awake. “You’re not serious.” </p><p> </p><p>“Completely. It’s a long story. Well, I guess it’s not that long, but it’s complicated. There’s a sword in the woods in a stone that was shoved there centuries ago, apparently, and—”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Did Dream speak to you again?” Tubbo’s tone is deeper, almost stern with worry, which stops Tommy. He falters, then sighs and gives in. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. He … he brought me somewhere new this time. Somewhere still in the forest, but there was a sword there, lodged in a boulder. He said it’s my destiny to grab it.” </p><p> </p><p>Tubbo’s frown deepens, and his brown eyes drain themselves of worry to make room for disapproval. “How can you trust him?” </p><p> </p><p>“I know he’s telling the truth. I can’t really explain why, I just … and when I grabbed the hilt, Tubbo—” Tommy’s eyes are blue like glass: far away. “It was, I was—I—It was like remembering. Like I’d been there before.” Tommy refocuses his gaze on Tubbo. “Dream said I could be a hero. Think about that. A real hero, like the ones from the myths Phil used to read to us. Like <em> Theseus </em>.” Tommy subconsciously wets dry lips and laughs lightly. “A hero.” Then his eyes shift subtly from bright blue and pleading to a shade darker with resolve. “I’m going to get that sword with or without you. Please come with me.” </p><p> </p><p>Tubbo shakes his head, sighs loudly, and rubs his eyes. He gives Tommy a reproving glare, but he pushes himself out of bed and tugs on his sneakers, not bothering to untie them first. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy smiles, glancing at the door, whispering as loud as he dares, “Yeaaaaaah, that’s my man!”</p><p> </p><p>“How are we even gonna find this sword, anyway?” Tubbo stands up and moves towards his door, tugging on a brown jacket. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy shrugs. “Dream said I’d just … know where it is.” </p><p> </p><p>“And do you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Um. Well, no.” Tubbo rolls his eyes, but Tommy spots his tiny, subconscious smile, and Tommy nods at the door. “Let’s go, then.” </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Outside, the harbinging sun rests just behind the horizon, burning the sky burgundy. In the lifting light, a head of messy blonde hair leaps into the air, red sleeved shirt daring the sky to burn brighter, while a mop of unbrushed brown hair sprints along right beside him, breathlessly laughing out late October’s clean, candy apple air. </p><p> </p><p>Tubbo hesitates for half a second before the barrier, but Tommy, not missing a beat, grabs him by the wrist and tugs him along straight into the magic. Phil’s enchantments suddenly grip their arms and legs, rendering their run to a crawl-like pace, as if they were marching through syrup. </p><p> </p><p>Phil’s frantic calls steadily grow louder, and Tommy has just enough time to wonder if they’ll finally make it through before he hears a crisp <em> POP! </em>and crumples to the ground. He looks up, confused, and takes Tubbo’s hand—the only thing he can focus on—and Tubbo drags him forward to his feet, and, wordlessly, they keep running.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t slow down, but he winces at the sound of Phil screaming after them. A voice completely void of anger. A voice soaked in terror and disbelief. </p><p> </p><p>“Uh, Tommy?” Tubbo manages between labored breathing, “Do you know where we’re going?” </p><p> </p><p>“No.” Tommy gasps for breath. Ahead, though, the road splits, and Tommy doesn’t even consider which way to go; he veers to the left, Tubbo following him, throwing him a sideways raised eyebrow, and Tommy grunts. “Okay. Maybe. I don’t know.” He breathes for a few seconds. “It’s like … instinct.” </p><p> </p><p>Neither of them have ever been in the forest before, at least not physically. And never in the morning, with honey light glittering like dew on pine needles and oak leaves, the bushes wet and cool against their legs when they briefly stray from the path. The smell of dirt is so much stronger than in Tommy’s dreams, almost overwhelming him. </p><p> </p><p>His heart pumps warnings through Tommy’s body, urging him to turn around, but despite a dry mouth and a stomach twisting like knotted ropes, Tommy pushes himself forward. Green and gold and brown blurs, and all he’s conscious of is his and Tubbo’s panting, and Tommy wonders if Tubbo’s getting tired without his own anxiety-fueled adrenaline spike, so he opens—</p><p> </p><p>Tommy stops running. He grabs Tubbo’s jacket, yanking him to abrupt stillness.</p><p> </p><p>Through the trees, he sees the Blade. </p><p> </p><p>In person, its power is tangible: thickly metallic on Tommy’s tongue and warmly stinging like tiny pins and needles at the bottom of his fingertips. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy gulps, suddenly unsure if he should keep walking, but Tubbo moves forward, eyes wide at the warrior’s hilt sitting atop its forestal throne. Tommy follows, each step making him more and more dizzy. </p><p> </p><p>His head is full of water; voices messily bubble around, creating whirlpools and riptides and waves, creating a piercing ache, and Tommy’s vision darkens and fills with spots. He struggles forward, holding himself up with his left hand on the boulder, fingers so close to the Blade that the voices surge louder, voices he’s sure he knows but can’t place, voices that make him feel safe, and voices that make him want to run. He groans, and he feels Tubbo’s hand on his shoulder, and Tommy lifts his head, forcing his eyes to focus on the hilt, and then one voice stands out above all the others, one that makes Tommy gasp, one that comes from the weapon itself. </p><p> </p><p>“You want to be a hero, Tommy?” </p><p> </p><p>Tommy lunges forward, gripping the hilt as tightly as he can, and tugs backward, the sword sliding out with only slight resistance, and as he unsheathes the Blade for the first time in centuries, Tommy coats the forest in glittering violet light. The forest quivers and his arm shakes under what feels like pure, white, hot-like-ice energy racing through his blood like lightning. </p><p> </p><p>Then it’s over. The purple glow is gone, and the energy subsides. Tommy reaches out, and Tubbo grabs his arm, letting his step-brother lean against him without complaint. Tommy closes his eyes, pushing his feet into the ground for stabilization, and after a minute he nods to himself and straightens up. </p><p> </p><p>He clears his throat, opens his eyes, and looks at the regal weapon in his right hand. The Blade. His destiny. He doesn’t feel any different, but … he looks around at the forest. Something is different. He knows. </p><p> </p><p>“Tommy?” </p><p> </p><p><em> Pull yourself together, man. </em> Tommy grins widely, stepping back so he can twirl his new toy around. “That was bloody <em> epic </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo laughs, a shocked, high-pitched sound. “That’s one way to put it.” </p><p> </p><p>“Tubbo, I’m …” Tommy shakes his head, eyes shining in the daylight that breaks through the trees and glints against unmarred steel. “I mean, <em> what </em>?” He laughs. </p><p> </p><p>“Could … Could I hold it?” </p><p> </p><p>Tommy narrows his eyes at Tubbo, smile vanishing, equal parts playful and dead serious. “Nuh-uh. My destiny, my Blade. Get your own.”</p><p> </p><p>“Aw, c’mon, Tommy.” Tubbo rolls his eyes and reaches forward, but Tommy weaves the Blade around his arm and through the air, holding it still when its tip is an inch from Tubbo’s neck. </p><p> </p><p>Fear freezes Tubbo. His lungs, his heart, his body stops moving, eyes locked on the sword's tip. He suddenly feels heavily claustrophobic, like he’s been stuffed into a coffin, face to face with an overpowered and pissed off Blade. </p><p> </p><p>Oblivious, Tommy shrieks. “HOW DID I DO THAT?” He lowers the sword, bringing it closer to his body as he twirls it around his hand in complicated patterns that he consistently nails perfectly. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know.” Tubbo mumbles, eyeing the sword nervously, wringing his hands together to calm down. “Something’s weird about it.” </p><p> </p><p>“Heroes have swords, Tubbo.” Tommy meets his eyes. “Do you know what this means? I’m a hero now.” </p><p> </p><p>“You’re certainly no hero yet, Big T.” Tubbo scoffs but smiles. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy’s eyebrows furrow together. “Why the fuck not?” </p><p> </p><p>“‘Cause heroes don’t just become heroes at the beginning. They need their story! They need to go on a journey.” </p><p> </p><p>Tommy nods, eyes once again finding themselves transfixed on the Blade, looking at his reflection in the steel. “Like Theseus.” For half a moment, Tommy swears he almost sees a face reflecting back at him, a pig-like face with pink skin, a large snout, and fierce horns. A terrifying smile. But he blinks, and the face disappears. </p><p> </p><p>“Huh.” Tubbo squints and tilts his head. “You know, that’s actually really weird.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?”<br/>
<br/>
“Theseus’ myth. Do you remember how it starts?”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Tommy rolls his eyes. “Obviously not.” </p><p> </p><p>Tubbo doesn’t bother feeding in. He continues, “It started just like this. Theseus pulled a sword out of stone. It started his journey.” Tubbo meets Tommy’s eyes. “What did Dream tell you to do once you got the sword?” </p><p> </p><p>“He didn’t say anything, just that this is my destiny. That I had to get the sword, and then its power would be mine.” </p><p> </p><p>Tubbo blinks. “Power? What power?” </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know.” Tommy shrugs, absentmindedly adjusting the green bandana around his neck. “I don’t feel any different. I think he skipped some steps.” </p><p> </p><p>“So … what do we do now?” </p><p> </p><p>Tommy looks around at the forest, once again aware of where they are. Then, without warning, he starts walking back the way they came, slashing the sword through the air in front of him. “Let’s go home.”</p><p> </p><p>“Home?” Tubbo’s at his side, of course, trotting down the dirt path, now well-light under a late morning sun. He grimaces at the Blade’s swift movements. “But Phil’s gonna kill us! And what’s he gonna say about you suddenly having some ancient, powerful sword? A sword that <em> Dream </em>, of all people, told you to get?”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy grins, all braces and teeth. “Who cares? I wanna show him how fucking OP I am.” Tubbo groans, and Tommy laughs. “C’mon, big man, you <em>know</em> me! Nothing can possibly go wrong.” </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. By the Way, the King's Your Brother</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>An atypical family meeting takes place, revealing a prophecy and a new member of the family tree.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“What were you </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinking</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Phil’s eyes dart back and forth between Tommy and Tubbo, hands shaking while he waves through the air aggressively. He doesn’t need to yell to spill his anger out over the spruce floor; his words are blunt and drenched in enough rage to make Tommy almost regret breaking their number one rule. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Almost.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy opens his mouth to speak, but Phil shuts him down with a glare and a pointed finger. “No. Listen to me. The one thing, above anything else, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> rule I needed you to follow was to never, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> enter that forest. You … that was for your own safety!” His voice rises on the last word, and Phil presses his lips tightly together, breathing in deeply through his nose. He shakes his head, but when he speaks again, any quivering in his voice that would be there is expertly concealed. “You’re not safe there.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tubbo, head bowed, wrings his hands in his lap. “We’re sorry.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy and Tubbo sit side by side on the couch, Tubbo with his ankles crossed, Tommy with the Blade laid against his legs. The fire in the fireplace keeps the outside’s cold at bay, but an October breeze sneaks around the oak wall living room, blowing against the back of Tommy’s neck occasionally. He shudders. He looks down at the Blade, and he remembers what it felt to touch it for the first time. He remembers the voice, the face, familiar and foreign but terrifying all the same. He sets his jaw, steels his resolve. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> not sorry.” Phil’s and Tubbo’s heads snap to Tommy, who leans forward. “You don’t know what it was like, always standing at the edge, on the wrong side of the enchantments. To feel the pull to cross but always have to ignore it. To always feel like, like … like you’re only half yourself, that something vital is missing. To feel like you’re filled with holes.” Tommy tightens his grip on the Blade. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Phil leans back against the windows on the room’s left and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You don’t get it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, really, because I think I’ve got it down good.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza glares at him. “It didn’t matter how badly you were tempted to go. You were … It was too dangerous, Tommy. It’s so much more dangerous than you can imagine. And now …” He stares at the Blade and detaches for a moment, leaving the living room for somewhere else. The dead look in Phil’s eyes makes Tommy squirm in his seat and bounce his leg up and down rapidly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy clears his throat and looks at Phil, eyes as blue as lapis and glowing with life. “This is my destiny, Phil.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your de—Who told you that?” Phil storms forward, coming to stand right in front of the couch. “Who </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuckin’</span>
  </em>
  <span> told you that?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy glances at Tubbo, who looks at him with eyebrows raised, silently saying, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well? Tell him. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tommy rubs his face with his free hand and leans back in his seat, left leg bouncing up and down beneath the Blade. A confession on the tip of his tongue weighs the muscle down, almost choking him until he manages to spit it out. “Dream. Dream told me.” Phil is so still, he doesn’t even breathe for his full minute of shocked silence. Tommy rambles on, trying to make the situation less uncomfortable. “He’s still been visiting me, I just didn’t let you know because I didn’t want you to worry or give me more sleeping potions because those just made it all worse. But last night he brought me to a part of the forest we’d never been to before, and he showed me the Blade, and he said it was my destiny to come find it, and he was right! It was like my body was a—was a compass, like it just knew where to go, and when I first grabbed the hilt, it was … it was unlike anything I’ve ever felt before, Phil, but above everything it felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>, like hundreds of little pieces I didn’t even know where there just slotted into place all at once, and—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dream told you.” Phil’s voice is low. Dark like the forest, and Tommy immediately shuts up. Phil stares at Tommy, wide eyes filled with horrified disbelief.  “Dream told you, and you thought it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay</span>
  </em>
  <span> to listen to him?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy wonders for a moment if he should feel guilty, but Tommy chases that thought away, reminding himself that </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m always right</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Tommy draws his eyebrows together. He straightens in his seat. “Yes.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tubbo clears his throat, mirroring Tommy in leaning more forward on the couch. He spreads his hands, trying to appear more neutral and peaceful. “To be fair, nothing went wrong.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing—” Philza looks back and forth between the boys, laughing dryly, boiling with sarcasm. “You two have no idea what you’ve set into motion.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sentence hangs thickly in the hair, and Tommy adjusts his tight grip on the Blade, sweat making his hold slightly slippery. He’s on the edge of something large, now, something he just knows he’s been steadily approaching for years now. It’s the same feeling he’d used to get standing at the edge of the forest’s enchanted fence; he struggles to breathe, his heart pounds in his ears, and his whole body aches to move forward, to fall into the secret. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy can barely suppress his grin, the thrill of what he’s about to hear already filling him with wild energy. His eyes don’t leave Phil’s, not even when Tubbo breathlessly asks, “Set what into motion?” Tommy watches carefully, and although Phil stays perfectly still, Tommy catches the way his eyes deepen, like when the ocean floor drops from below, and suddenly, he’s in the open ocean, where it’s cold and ancient and filled with the unknown. Despite all of Tommy’s frequent “old man” jokes, he’s never genuinely considered Phil old until this moment, standing tall, unmoving, all the ocean in his eyes, with a tide pulling them all in for the first time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Phil blinks. He looks at Tubbo, then Tommy, and his gaze lingers, and Tommy gulps. Philza nods, and somehow Tommy hears the tap of a small wood piece against a wood board. The King resigns. Phil turns and crosses the spruce floor, reaching for the large bookcase beside the fireplace. From the shelf just above the middle, Phil pulls a thin book bound in cracked leather. When he opens the book, he winces at the leather’s crisp whines which threaten to fall to pieces. He sighs and looks back at the boys.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After another moment’s silence, Tommy, fingers drumming against the Blade’s hilt, raises his eyebrows. “Set what into motion, Phil?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Phil waves for Tommy to move. Tommy shakes his head, and Tubbo scooches over without complaint. Phil sits between the boys, giving Tommy a look that is meant to be red but colors itself paler, more tired. The old book is open on his lap, the thick scent of dust making Tubbo sneeze. Upon dried out, yellow pages, lines of messy penciled handwriting are so light with time that it’s difficult for Tommy to make out any specific words, but he instantly recognizes Philza’s signature “f” and “g.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Philza’s eyes are deep water again, far away, older than what seems right. When he speaks, it’s like he’s holding back a hurricane. Tommy can hear his devastation, his defeat. “I knew I couldn’t keep it at bay forever, but I’d hoped you two could’ve at least grown up first.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy scoffs. “What are you talking about? I’m grown.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Tubbo rolls his eyes and leans in. “What’s ‘it’?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your destiny.” Phil carefully flips a fragile page. “It’s all here.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, what?” Tommy leans in, too, squinting to read the words. At the top of the page, in lead that’s just a shade darker than the page, he manages to make out a few words. “What … Karl … told me?” Tommy glances up at Philza. “Who’s Karl?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“An old friend. He told me this so I could one day retell it to you. He knew he wouldn’t be around to do so himself.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tubbo scrunches his nose in confusion. “How did he know all that?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Karl knew a lot of things.” Philza lightly presses his finger against the page and stares intensely past the words, as if trying to see Karl somewhere on the page. He nods solemnly. “He—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, now, hold on just a second.” Tommy pushes off the couch, moving to stand in front of Tubbo and Philza, clutching the Blade. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You </span>
  </em>
  <span>knew about my destiny for </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> long and decided </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> to tell me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Philz gestures at the book, exasperated. “Do you want to hear the prophecy or not?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Prophecy?” The boys say in unison. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Philza hands the book to Tubbo. His gaze is fixed across the room, seeing nothing, and he recites the prophecy without stuttering, without faltering:</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Home never changes, never forgets, never leaves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>History’s made, whether or not the hero survives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two boys voyaging will face monsters and strife,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Returning to L’Manberg at Dawn on the Sixteenth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brother against brother, boy versus man, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Death waits to reap any soul that is slain,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And life’s foretold cycles will finally cease</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When King Wilbur’s kin wields the Blade.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, wait a minute.” Tubbo frowns. “I thought prophecies rhyme.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Poems rhyme, Tubbo.” Philza eyes the Blade. “Reality is blunt.” He sighs. “I’ve known about this prophecy since before you both were born. When Karl told it to me, I vowed to make sure you’d make it to eighteen before having to go through it all.” Phil glances between the boys. “I failed you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Philza’s words fall heavily, dully from his mouth but land on the floor like electricity. Tubbo looks at Tommy with smiling wonder, and Tommy grins widely, effortlessly tossing the Blade back and forth between his hands. October’s cold wind is unfelt, as Tommy breathes in and out the fire blazing brightly behind him. “I have a quest.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Phil groans. “Don’t be so pleased. It’s dangerous.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s too close to the flames; Tommy’s eyes catch fire. “It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>dangerous</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tubbo’s smirk is dangerously mischievous. “It’s an adventure! We’re going to L’Manberg. We’re gonna fight monsters!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Phil shakes his head. “Listen, it’s not—”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a hero!” Tommy raises the Blade above his head. “I’m a real hero.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His triumphant arm lowers when he sees Philza’s horror. He swallows his smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t …” Philza shakes his head and takes a deep breath in, ridding his voice of its quiver. “I’ve seen you lose this battle before. I don’t … I can’t watch you lose it again. Not when it’s the last time.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?” Tubbo glances at Tommy, looking for any sign of answers, but Tommy just shrugs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t fuckin’ know either, Pal, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he tries to communicate through pressing his lips together and raising his eyebrows. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I only found out I had a destiny this morning. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve only got one chance to make this right.” Phil leans forward, balancing his elbows on his knees. “Do you remember the prophecy?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhhh …” Tommy closes his eyes to remember. “Home never changes … hero … monsters … King Wilbur wields the Blade?” Then his eyes narrow. “He’d better not try that.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe just say it again,” Tubbo says, “Just in case neither of us remember it at all?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Philza sighs, but obliges: </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Home never changes, never forgets, never leaves</span>
</p><p>
  <span>History’s made, whether or not the hero survives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two boys voyaging will face monsters and strife,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Returning to L’Manberg at Dawn on the Sixteenth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brother against brother, boy versus man, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Death waits to reap any soul that is slain,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And life’s foretold cycles will finally cease</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When King Wilbur’s kin wields the Blade.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy waves his hand absentmindedly through the air. “So what does that all mean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Phil clears his throat. He straightens his back, bracing himself, steadying himself, almost as if once he lets go of the burden of absolute secrecy, he’ll topple over. “Well, that you guys have to go on a quest. You’ll face monsters, and you’ll have to kill them. You’ll face evil people, and you’ll have to kill them, too.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy puffs his chest. “Alright, sounds easy enough. Nothing a hero couldn’t do, eh, Big T?” But when he looks, he sees that Tubbo isn’t smiling anymore; he’s biting his lip. He’s nervous. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You say that now, Tommy, but that will change. It always does.” Tommy shakes his head and opens his mouth to interrupt, but Phil continues, “Anyway, there’s something else I need to tell you. About the prophecy. About King Wilbur.” The boys watch as Phil takes a deep breath. “Tommy, the King is your brother.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The words hit Tommy in the chest, knocking the breath from his lungs. He can’t even manage to wheeze out a, “what do you mean,” so Tubbo does it for him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Phil swallows. “King Wilbur is your brother. He’s my son. But he’s lost his way.” Phil takes a few moments to breathe, trying to keep the emotion from spilling into his voice, but Tommy and Tubbo can hear the tightness around his words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy breathes in all the heat from the fire behind him. His voice is laced with low anger. “I have a brother, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>you never told me</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If he was good, I would have, but he’s not good anymore. I knew it would happen. I couldn’t stop it, not this time, and,” Phil’s voice breaks, “not the last time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean? What are we supposed to do, then?” Tubbo’s words are hushed and soft. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy stares at Phil, and he’s still angry, but for the first time in his life, he sees a broken man. Phil looks at him with an intensity and a darkness he’s never seen before. “It ends when Wilbur’s kin wields the Blade. It ends with brother against brother.” A pause. “I know what Wilbur’s capable of. I’ve tried to stop him in kinder ways, but that’s just not possible. The prophecy says it has to be you, and the prophecy says he has to die.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not—I don’t think the prophecy quite says </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Tubbo’s eyebrows are drawn together. “Surely we don’t have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill</span>
  </em>
  <span> him.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Trust me,” Phil says, standing, “It’s the only way.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, what now, then?” Tommy raises his hands, forgetting that he’s holding the Blade, and Phil leans back slightly in caution. What now, after learning all of this? After learning that he’s a hero in a prophecy written before he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>born</span>
  </em>
  <span>? After learning he has a brother, a brother that’s evil? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He has so many questions, but he’s not sure where to start. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Phil, leather bound book in hand, crosses the room. “You guys go on your quest. I suggest you leave tomorrow morning. Prophecies tend to move along quickly.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hang on.” Tommy points an accusatory finger at Phil as he slides the book back into its place on the bookshelf. “If this prophecy was something you were trying to keep secret, why didn’t you keep it in an ender chest?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Phil shrugs. “I figured you would’ve found a way into an ender chest somehow, knowing you two. I needed to put it somewhere non-suspicious.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But it’s just in a bookshelf!” Tubbo gestures toward the bookshelves. “We could’ve found it at any time.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Phil doesn’t even bother turning around. “Have either of you even thought about picking up a book from here?” Tommy and Tubbo look at eachother, silent. Phil sighs. “I rest my case.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy looks out the windows. The light outside is greying, easing into night. Leaves float to the ground, which starts to freeze under winter’s cold breath, and the forest stares back at him, serious and opaque, and even though he knows that Dream only reaches out in his sleep, Tommy can’t shake the feeling that he’s somewhere in those shadows, watching him, too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So that’s it. We’re just supposed to … go to sleep?” Tommy turns, looking at Phil. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“After dinner.” Phil’s silent for a few seconds before he responds. “Do you need a sleeping potion?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy shakes his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Phil nods. “I’m gonna start cooking.” He tries a small smile. “Don’t go starting any more prophecies while I’m gone, okay?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you go around telling me what to do, old man.” A wide smile, all braces. “I’m a hero, now, you know.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Phil waves them off. “Now leave me alone.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tubbo stretches out on the couch. He pushes back some brown hair that’s fallen into his eyes. “This is starting to sound suspiciously more and more like Theseus’ myth, Tommy.” He counts the similarities on his fingers. “You pulled the sword from the stone and jump-started your destiny, we’ve got to face a bunch of monster-related challenges, we’re supposed to head for a big city, and we’ve got to defeat a king that you’re related to.” Tubbo glances over at his step-brother before closing his eyes. “Tommy, are you ready to be Theseus?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pfft.” Tommy rolls his eyes and smoothly flips the Blade in his hand. “Obviously.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m just saying—” Tubbo tucks his arms behind his head, eyes still closed. “If the monsters we have to face are anything like those that Theseus encounters—” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tubbo, look at my sword of destiny.” Tubbo obliges, but he channels as much annoyance through his tired eyes as he can. Tommy gleefully ignores it. “Look at it. It takes a big man to wield a sword like this one, Tubbo.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mm.” Tubbo rolls onto his back, eyes on the ceiling. “But it takes a bigger one to lay it down, don’t you think?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy pauses for a moment, then shakes his head. “Absolutely not.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Tommy finally falls asleep, Dream doesn’t say anything. He stands still. Staring. Tommy in the clearing, Dream by the trees. The ceramic mask is dark grey, veiled with shadows, the terrible smile reaching out from the ghostly darkness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m on my way tomorrow.” Tommy sits, crossing his legs, feigning comfort when in reality his heart pounds. This time, though, he’s got the Blade, which he grips so tightly his fingers go cold. “It’s the start of my destiny.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream cocks his head to the side, but does nothing else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy swallows. “Ph—My dad told me my prophecy. He told me that I’d have to kill someone, that killing a person would be hard.” Tommy shakes his head. “He doesn’t know, though. About what you’ve put me through.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream doesn’t move. He blends in almost entirely with the dark. Sometimes, Tommy wonders if all the darkness around him is Dream, both in the forest when he’s sleeping and in his home when he’s awake. If everything cold and black and unsettling is an extension of the poltergeist tormenting his sleep, cursing him with incessant nightmares. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My promise still stands, Dream.” Tommy narrows his eyes at the smile. “I look forward to carrying it out.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream laughs. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>happy 16th, no i dont wanna talk about it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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